Darkmore Penitentiary 2 - Caroline Peckham
I was with the creepy ass psycho, Quentin, for three full days before the interrogation was over. I didn’t breathe a word of the truth, nothing about Rosalie or Roary, or whatever plans they were hiding with that key. I bit my tongue, doing what any self-respecting Fae would do and refused to snitch a word of the truth while I was cut open and subjected to all manner of poisons before being healed from the brink of death. It wasn’t pretty. And it sure as hell was going to leave an imprint on me, but I’d faced interrogation with Quentin before. His gifts were strong, but not that strong. And I knew how to hide information when I had time to prepare. It was all about covering memories with new ones, thinking through each one I wanted to conceal and rebuilding them to cover the secrets they held. So long as I was ready to face him, nothing he did would ever break me. He’d tried to use physical torture to weaken me first, but I’d been trained by the biggest, baddest Lunar I’d ever known on how to handle pain. So there was no chance of that working on me. The real wound that would never heal was the sentence handed to me the day I was returned to gen pop.
Officer Nixon strode beside me with a smug sort of smirk on his thin lips; he was a tall asshole with a bald, shiny head and bushy black brows. “So I hear you’re gonna be here for another fifteen years. Ten for stealing a cuff key and five more for the intent to use your magic for devious purposes. You might get another five if they can prove you released the Belorian.” He glanced at me as if looking for signs of guilt in my features. “And my how the rumours spread fast in this place. Half the inmates already think you’re guilty. And a lot of them are real pissed since their little friends got eaten by the monster you let loose.”
“I didn’t let it loose,” I growled, an edge of warning in my tone, though what I could actually do to this fucker was pretty limited. And would probably serve me with another few years in this place. Shit, how am I gonna explain this to my sisters?
Guilt mixed with dread inside me. I’d been so close to release. So. Fucking. Close. I’d been counting the weeks, the days. There’d been times I could almost taste the fresh air waiting for me up there above the ground.
I swallowed a whine, keeping my expression hard and impenetrable as Nixon’s arm brushed mine.
“Of course, I can always look out for you in here, One,” he murmured. “You scratch my balls and I’ll scratch yours, eh?” He gave me a suggestive look, his tongue wetting his lips in a slow and creepy as fuck motion and my upper lip curled back.
“You put your balls anywhere near me and I’ll rip them off and stuff them down your throat,” I snarled and his hand moved to rest on his shock baton.
“Say that again. I dare you,” he hissed as we made it to level two and approached the Mess Hall.
I didn’t want to be sent to the hole - or back to fucking Quentin for that matter - so I swallowed my tongue and Nixon lifted his chin like he’d won a point. In the real world, I would have ripped his intestines from his stomach and choked him with them by now. But hey ho, life in Darkmore was a piece of shit. And now I have fifteen more years to look forward to.
Eyes fell on me and chatter broke out as Nixon left me to join the inmates in the Mess Hall and my Wolves howled excitedly, rising from their seats.
I tried not to panic or fall into a hopeless shell of a person, but it wasn’t easy. I’d had plans. A life to return to. A gang to lead. But now…I had nothing. Nothing but more time to waste, more of my life to pour down the drain.
An Experian Deer Shifter was walking my way with his tray in hand and I had the urge to slam it up into his face as fury took hold of me and my muscles shook with adrenaline. I clenched my fists and contained the urge as he scurried past me, averting his gaze. No point in earning myself more punishments right